


stars in secret influence

by Eye_Greater_Than_Three



Series: Celestial Romance [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M, Het, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Resurrection, Time Travel, female!Harry Potter - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:21:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25579513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eye_Greater_Than_Three/pseuds/Eye_Greater_Than_Three
Summary: In which Heiress Harriet Potter met Heir Alphard Sirius Black.
Relationships: Alphard Black/Harry Potter
Series: Celestial Romance [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/902937
Comments: 21
Kudos: 318





	stars in secret influence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ellory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellory/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Enchanting](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5048671) by [Eye_Greater_Than_Three](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eye_Greater_Than_Three/pseuds/Eye_Greater_Than_Three). 



> Written for _July Challenge_ using prompt 19: (Word Count) 2,500+ words.

Rumors started swirling and spreading the moment Heir Alphard Sirius Black stepped into Diagon Alley. It was a slow news day, meaning  _ The Daily Prophet _ ran a front page story on him. No one knew him. There was no record of  _ anyone _ named Alphard Black in Magical Britain in decades. The last Alphard Black died back in 1977 – nearly twenty years ago. 

No one knew where  _ this _ Alphard Black came from.

Some whispered about him being a muggle-born, impersonating an Heir to the House of Black.

Others whispered about him the son of either Regulus Black or Sirius Black. He was around the proper age.

Harriet Potter found herself stumped as she stared at the moving, black and white photograph. He shared a lot of features with her godfather, Sirius, and he had Sirius as his middle name. If she was a gambling witch, she would be willing to bet Alphard was Sirius’ son, but Sirius  _ never _ mentioned a son. 

Frowning, Harriet couldn’t remember seeing Alphard Sirius Black on the Black Tapestry in Grimmauld Place.

Her gaze dropped back to the moving photograph, show Heir Black purchasing parchment and quills. With the cheekbones and ears, she knew he was a Black and magic recognized him as Heir Black, meaning he was  _ real _ .

Harriet found herself wishing she could  _ see _ him. She assumed he had the same gray eyes as Sirius and his hair was dark, which were common Black family traits.

With a sigh, Harriet tossed the paper aside. Her green eyes as an idea formed. “Kreacher?” she called.

With a  _ pop _ , Kreacher appeared next to Harriet. “Master called,” he said with a bow. Kreacher was dressed in a new uniform, black pants with a white pillowcase, with the fake Slytherin locket around his neck.

“What can you tell me about Heir Alphard Sirius Black?” she asked.

Kreacher’s eyes narrowed and his ears twitched. “Kreacher can’t say much,” he answered. “Black family magic won’t allow it.”

That caught Harriet’s attention. If she understood family magic correctly, Kreacher could answer some questions. “How old is Heir Black?” she asked.

The house-elf gave her a slight nod of his head and his eyes brightened. “Heir Black is seventeen,” he answered.

That was close to her age, though she would be eighteen on the thirty-first of July. “Will Heir Black being attending Hogwarts?” she asked.

Kreacher nodded.

She wanted to ask where he was  _ before _ this, but she knew Kreacher won’t be allowed the answer such a question. “How is Heir Black adjusting to London?” she asked instead.

It took Kreacher a good two minutes to reply, “Heir Black isn’t in London.” A pained expression crossed Kreacher’s face and his hands curled into fists.

Clearly, Harriet needed to choice her next questions more carefully. “Kreacher, if you can’t answer the next question, then say so,” she ordered.

The house-elf nodded.

“Is Heir Black the grandson of Lord Arcturus Black the Third?” she asked.

His ears dropped a little. “Kreacher can’t say, Master,” he answered.

Harriet offered him a kind smile. “That’s all right, you did excellent as I ordered,” she told him. “Think you can try to answer one more?”

Kreacher nodded.

“Can I send Heir Black an invite for tea?” she asked. It would be nice to meet him, and he might be interested in seeing Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

Eyes widened. “Kreacher can pass on a message,” he responded, nodding his head.

“Excellent,” she said. “Give me a few moments, and I’ll have one written.”

Kreacher nodded, offering her a proud smirk.

Since inheriting Grimmauld Place and Kreacher, Harriet had started educating herself on pure-blood culture and traditions. While she wasn’t a pure-blood herself, she understood the importance of learning everything she could. Her children would be raised in magic, and she wanted to know these things so she could pass them on.

One of the first things Harriet worked on was her penmanship with a quill. Kreacher had approved of her efforts and he showed her various books and resource.

Stopping up from the table, she made her way from the kitchen and up to the library. Towards the back of the library, she had a table sat up, overlooking the backyard. There were a few piles of parchment, some quills, and four inkwells. Harriet sat down, picking up a blank piece of parchment.

With a quill in hand, Harriet decided to use the royal blue ink. The inkwell was opened and she dipped her quill in, staring at the blank parchment. She wasn’t sure  _ what _ to write. 

A sigh escaped her lips as she picked up the quill. She wasn’t very social, and she didn’t write letters to many people. In fact, she ignored dozens of letters.

> _ Dear Heir Alphard Black, _

Harriet frowned. It was a formal start, but it didn’t feel right. She bit her lip, looking at the words. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t think of a different opening. Formal was probably the best way to start.

She stared at the parchment for five minutes, feeling like the empty space was mocking her. Biting back a groan, she wrote a quick and direct message.

> _ Would you care to join me for tea one afternoon? I currently live at the London Townhouse of the House of Black. I inherited it a few years back from my godfather, Sirius. _
> 
> _Sincerely,_
> 
> _Heiress Harriet Potter_

There was quick internal debate about using her various titles, and she decided against it. She was hardly one to use those stupid things, both her formal titles and the ones bestowed upon her by Ministry of Magic and the press.

Pulling out her holly wand, Harriet cast a nonverbal Drying Charm before she folded the parchment. She decided against using the Potter seal, instead casting a basic Wax Sealing Charm. The wax was colored blue.

“That’s as good as it’ll ever be,” she muttered to herself as she stood up.

Grabbing the letter, Harriet left the library, heading back downstairs. She found Kreacher waiting in the parlor.

“Thank you for delivering this, Kreacher,” she told the house-elf as she handed the letter over.

Kreacher said nothing before his disappeared with a  _ pop _ .

Left alone, Harriet sighed. She wasn’t sure what to do with herself. Ron and Hermione were in Australia, and the remaining Weasleys were at The Burrow. Harriet knew she was welcome to join them, but she found it difficult and a little awkward. It was hard to be around the family knowing Fred was dead. She blamed herself, despite what everyone else told her – George included.

Harriet pulled a piece of parchment out of her pocket. It was folded three times. She opened it, scanning the list. After a long debate, she recently decided to return to Hogwarts for her seventh year. This was a list of material and spellwork to review, helpfully provided by Hermione.

With nothing else to do, Harriet found herself nearly done with the list. The only items remaining were a few Potions and a handful of Charms. The parchment was folded and returned to her pocket.

Running a hand through her hair, she quickly decided it was time to leave Grimmauld Place. This antsy feeling was something new.

Before leaving, Harriet grabbed her bag and she checked the contents. There was her Cloak of Invisibility, her bag of galleons, a stack of bills, and a map of London. Her holly wand was secured to her right wrist, and the elder wand was strapped to her left ankle. A dagger was hidden in her right boot.

Harriet dashed up to her room, deciding to change into something appropriate for Muggle London. She didn’t feel like visiting Diagon Alley today. She changed out of her gray robes and into a pair of jeans, a black tank top, and a light green jacket. Her black boots stayed. Since she was in her room, Harriet picked up the Potter ring, putting it on her right index finger.

Without glancing in the mirror, she left her room and she headed out of the house, into London.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Later that afternoon founding Harriet pulling a batch of fresh monster cookies from the oven. She smiled, pleased with her results. It had been  _ years _ since she last baked, and the interest struck her at random.

Earlier when she was in Muggle London, she had wondered around a grocery store where she found herself walking up and down aisle with baking supplies. When she decided she wanted to bake something, she took a detour to the books and magazines, looking at different cookbooks and different magazines for recipes. She bought a few, unhappy with the selection available before she stocked up on flour, sugar, eggs, brown sugar, and very other ingredients that caught her eye. Once everything was purchased and she was out of sight of muggles, Harriet placed everything in her bag, which was similar in design to Hermione’s beaded bag.

With a skip in her step, Harriet headed to a bookstore, where she raided the cooking section, purchasing several books and a few magazines. Inside one of the books was a recipe for monster cookies, which she remembered the Dursleys boasting about. It sounded like a good cookie to make.

As she headed back to Grimmauld Place, Harriet returned to the grocery store, buying a few tubs of ice cream. Ice cream sandwiches sounded  _ deliciously _ . 

Humming to herself, Harriet used a nonverbal Levitation Charm to remove the cookies from the hot tray and onto the cooling rack. With the monster cookies done, she started to mix a new batch of peanut butter cookies. Every time she added a new ingredient, she cast a nonverbal Mixing Charm.

Harriet was too engrossed in her baking reprocess to notice the  _ pop _ that signaled the arrival of Kreacher. He eyed the rows of cooling cookies before turning his attention to the witch as she rolled cookie balls and placed them on the baking tray.

“Master,” Kreacher called, a minute or two after arriving.

She jumped, clearly startled. Whirling around, she looked at Kreacher with raised eyebrows.

“I’s brings reply,” the house-elf continued, offering Harriet a sealed letter.

Her green eyes widened. “Thank you, Kreacher,” she said. She turned to quickly rinse her hands before taking the letter.

Upon inspecting it, she noticed it was sealed with silver wax pressed with the House of Black seal. She pressed her lips together, staring at the silver wax, vaguely remembering there was something important about wax seals.

Eyes widened a little, Harriet barely bit back a groan. She had forgotten about wax colors when she sent her invite to Heir Black. She closed her eyes. The letter she sent had a blue wax seal.

With the letter in hand, Harriet rushed to the library. On her table she had a journal where she wrote down the important lessons and information she learned. There was a page on wax colors in there. The letter was dropped onto the table as she sat down, picking the journal up. Thumbing through the contents, she matched to find the page.

Black usually signified death or was message connected to death, like the passing of a loved one or an invitation to a will reading. White was related to weddings, bondings, and the occasional childbirth announcement. Purple was the color favored by the Ministry of Magic and some ancient pure-blood Houses. Blue was a color used for friendship or offering an alliance. Green was related to money and nature, sometimes used to send messages to family members and close friends. Yellow was good news, usually announcing the birth of a child. Orange meant invitations to social gathers, like a ball or formal dinner. Red had multiple meanings, sometimes it was used to send bad news, like a Howler, and others it was declaration of love. Silver and gold were reserved for courting, betrothals, and bonding. There were times when a seal was related to an individual’s magic or education, like a Mastery.

Harriet gasped a little, staring down at the letter with wide green eyes. Maybe Heir Alphard Black  _ didn’t _ know what the colors represented.

The thought made her laugh. The chances of that were slim. It was more likely Draco Malfoy would beat her to the Snitch playing a school-issued broom.

She stood there, a full minute, staring down at the letter. The journal was put a side, and she continued to stare at the silver seal.

With slightly shaking hands, she reached down and picked the letter up. The seal broke with a swipe of her index finger. For some unknown reason, Harriet held her breath as she opened the letter. The first thing she noticed was Heir Black wrote slightly crooked in large cursive.

Seeing his handwriting made her feel calmer.

The letter was written in black ink, and it was rather short.

> _ Dear Heiress Harriet, _
> 
> _Please, call me Alphard or Heir Alphard. I hope it isn’t too forward of me to call you Heiress Harriet. If it is, I do sincerely apology and please do inform me._
> 
> _I hope it isn’t too forward of me to say that I was hoping to hear from you. I was looking forward to meeting you at Hogwarts when the chance arose._
> 
> _If your invitation is open, I am available for tea this afternoon, around three. If you’re unavailable, please have Kreacher inform me. This afternoon I would like to discuss a possible courtship between us, as our fathers had wished._
> 
> _Love, Alphard_

She smiled a little, reading over the letter a second time. It seemed likely Heir Alphard was the son of Sirius. He shared Sirius’ directness and he was informal, seeming to prefer Sirius’ dislike or disregard for some of pure-blood standards.

The part about their fathers wanting a courtship was a surprise. Really, Harriet knew she shouldn’t be. With as close as her dad and Sirius were, it was likely they would try to push their children together. Maybe the surprise came from confirmation Sirius had a son. Sirius had never mentioned Alphard, but it was possible her godfather didn’t know him.

Her green narrowed as she read over the time about three o’clock  _ this afternoon _ for tea. A quick wave of wand and a  _ Tempus _ later, she learned it was  _ nearly _ three o’clock. It was too late to cancel or postpone their plans, not that Harriet wanted.

With the letter in hand, Harriet ran from the library, down to her bedroom. She needed to change. The muggle clothes were easily pulled off and thrown into a disorganized pile on the floor as she took a few seconds to look over her robes. Reaching, she grab her favorite black skirt with a white blouse and a black robe to go over top. The white blouse was loosely tugged into the black skirt. Her black boots remained.

Turning to the mirror, Harriet bit her lip. The outfit was missing something. She glanced over at her dresser, where her small jewelry collection was displayed. Her green eyes landed on a double-stranded pearl necklace. Sirius and Remus had given it to her when she turned fourteen with an attached note explaining they belonged to her Grandmother Dorea.

It was quick walk from the mirror to her jewelry. Upon picking up the pearls, she smiled, running her thumb over the slightly rough surface. A few second later, Harriet was putting the necklace on and securing it behind her neck.

Harriet turned, leaving her room. She headed downstair to the parlor, which served as the main floo access for the house. Until she felt comfortable tying him into the wards, Heir Alphard would only be able to enter the house through the floo network or the front door. Most people used the floo.

Upon entering the parlor, she smiled. Kreacher stood a few feet back from the parlor, ready and eager to greet Heir Alphard.

“Miss Harriet,” the house-elf said, switching his form of address. In private and in front of her closest friends, he used  _ master _ while he switched to  _ miss _ or  _ mistress _ when others were around. “You needs not be here. Kreacher be good elf.”

Harriet offered him a kind smile. “Heir Alphard,” she began, speaking his name for the first time, “seems to have the same fondness of customs as Sirius.”

The house-elf sighed, looking old, as he shook his head and started muttering to himself. It was likely his usual rant about young witches and wizards and their lack of understanding of traditions and their importances.

Fondly, Harriet rolled her eyes. This was a rant she was familiar with, Kreacher had at least one on a given week and three on a good week.

A glance at the clock, she noted it was a few minutes after three. Heir Alphard should be arriving  _ any minute _ now.

As if on cue, the fire turned green and an unknown wizard stepped out.

Harriet found her green eyes widening, her heartbeat increasing, and her mouth falling open slightly.

Heir Alphard Black was a handsome man, taking after Sirius in his good looks. He was tall, standing close to six feet, with broad shoulders and tan skin. His long dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, making it shoulder-length, and he had gray eyes. In person, she noted he shared several features with Sirius including his cheekbones and ears. He wore the same smirk, and his chin had the same shape.

A few tears sprung to her eyes. There was a dwell pain in her heart, but she felt happy and relieved. A part of Sirius lived on in his son.

“Kreacher,” Heir Alphard greeted. His tone was warm.

“Heir Black,” the house-elf dutifully replied. “Kreacher presents his Miss Heiress Harriet Potter.” He motioned towards the doorway, where she stood.

There was a slight widening of Heir Alphard’s gray eyes as he turned to look at her. “Heiress Harriet,” he said with a respectful bow of his head.

“Heir Alphard,” she greeted, returning the respectful bow, “I welcome you to the London Townhouse.” It was standard for a witch to curtsy instead of bow. Harriet preferred to bow, something that irritated Kreacher.

A pleased smile crossed Heir Alphard’s lips, “Thank you for the invitation, Heiress Harriet.”

Harriet motioned for him to follow her, intending to lead him to her sun room. It was a small room at the back of the house with a wall of windows overlooking the backyard. According to Kreacher, this room served as Orion Black’s private office.

They passed through the kitchen, where Harriet noticed her cookies were laid out.

“What kind of cookies, Kreacher?” Heir Alphard asked, looking at the house-elf.

She could feel herself turn red. “Those are mine,” she stated.

Heir Alphard’s gray eyes widened. “You bake?” he asked. There was something in his tone that she couldn’t place.

“I’ve recently started,” she admitted. This wasn’t the time or place to bring up the Dursleys and her childhood.

“Are we having some with tea?” he asked, interest in his voice.

“Sure,” Harriet agreed, feeling flattered. “I got a new fruit tea from Rosa Lee.” It was enjoyable hot, and it was even better iced.

Heir Alphard back a noise of agreement.

“Miss Harriet, Kreacher has it,” the house-elf offered. “You’s takes Heir Alphard to sun room.”

“Thank you, Kreacher,” she responded with a smile.

Harriet smiled as she entered the sun room. Upon moving in, she decided this would be a lovely place to read or sit with a cup of tea. The room was painted light blue with long white curtains around the window. There was a small, black circular table with two chairs placed in front of the window. There was a gray armchair angled towards the windows close to the bookcases, which lined the back wall.

Turning, she found Heir Alphard looking around the room, a little confused. His lips were pressed together and his gray eyes seemed to catalogue everything in the room.

“–before,” she overheard him muttering.

She hilted her head, staring at him.

Heir Alphard offered her a smile. “I never pictured this,” he admitted, motioning to the room. “I was under the impression this was an,” he paused for a few seconds, “unhappy place to live.”

Uncertain how to respond, she thought a moment. “Sirius didn’t have many pleasant memories here,” she explained. “This was his father’s office, and I don’t think Sirius  _ ever _ sat foot in here.”

She glanced around. “When I found this room,” she carried on, “I decided it would be a perfect reading room or something. It was bright and airy.”

Heir Alphard’s smile turned gentle. He took a few steps, helping himself to a seat. Since this was Heiress Harriet’s residence, it would be considered rude to pull the seat out for her.

With her guest seated, Harriet sat down.

Taking that as his cue, Kreacher entered the room. He carried a small tray with cookies and there was a larger tray floating behind him, holding the teapot, two teacups, a jar of sugar, a small pitcher of cream, a dish of ice, and two small spoons. Kreacher lowered the floating tray onto the table.

Harriet quickly started taking this off the tray and arranging them on the table. Once the tray was empty, she removed it from the table.

“Thank you, Kreacher,” she said, taking the plate of cookies before returning the empty tray.

The house-elf left with a bow.

Harriet pour some tea into both teacups.

“I most admit, I was rather surprised,” Heir Alphard stated.

Glancing at him, she frowned. “About what?” she asked as she added a few ice cubes to her tea. Personally, she felt like drinking iced tea. It was a warm August day.

Heir Alphard took a sip of his tea. He grimaced a little.

“I like better with ice and sugar,” Harriet suggested, adding a little sugar to her cup.

He nodded, adding sugar. “You,” he said, answering her question.

She frowned, feeling confused. They had never met before.

Shaking his head, Heir Alphard apologized, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound rude.” He leaned back in his chair. “I meant I was surprised you wanted to meet me. My father killed your parents.”

Harriet  _ barely _ refrained from rolling her eyes. “You that isn’t true, right?” she asked. 

“I do, now,” he replied. “Growing up, that was all I knew.”

“Did your mother tell you about Sirius?” Harriet was curious about his mother’s identity. Sirius never talked about the witches in his past, and Remus was too polite to share details. All she knew was Sirius liked witches and he dated several witches when he was in Hogwarts.

“She couldn’t tell me much,” he shook his head. “She died when I was four, and I was raised by her best friend.”

Her heart went out to him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He offered her a kind smile. “It’s alright,” he stated. “My aunt raised me as if I was her own.”

At least one of them had a good childhood, Harriet found herself bitterly thinking. “Where did you grow up?” she questioned.

“Traveling,” he answered, taking a sip of his tea. “My aunt was a traveling writer. We moved once or twice a year.”

That caught her interest. When she graduated Hogwarts, Harriet wanted to travel. “I’ve always wanted to see France,” she said.

“France was nice,” he said, “good beaches, and amazing food.” He picked up a monster cookie, studying it with a close eye.

Blushing, she rushed to explain, “It’s called a monster cookie. I made it with oatmeal, chocolate chips, M&M’s, and peanut butter.”

His gray eyes looked between her and the cookie. “I’ve never heard of such a cookie,” he confessed. “What’s an M&M?”

“It’s an American muggle candy,” she replied. “It’s a small chocolate candy covered in a hard coating that’s red, orange, yellow, blue, or green.”

“Sounds interesting,” he declared, taking a bite of the cookie. He chewed it, looking thoughtful. A few seconds later, his eyes widened in delight and he eagerly ate another bite. The cookie was gone two bites later.

Harriet beamed, her heart fluttering. She was pleased to see he enjoyed the cookie. “You’ll have to come back tomorrow,” she teased. “I’m making ice cream sandwiches.”

Heir Alphard was  _ very _ fascinated. “What’s an ice cream sandwich?” he asked. “It sounds messy.”

Laughing, she agreed, “It can be.” She took a sip of her tea before explaining, “An ice cream is made with two cookies with ice cream in the middle.”

He hummed. “Would you care to join me for dinner at Estelle’s?” he asked.

Her green eyes widened as she found herself unable to speak.

“Perhaps we could share these ice cream sandwiches in your yard,” he suggested.

Nodding, Harriet still found herself unable to say anything.

He smiled. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a silver ribbon. “I was planning to save this,” he said, representing her with the ribbon, “but I find myself uninterested in waiting.”

Harriet stared at the ribbon. She bit her lip. This was  _ very _ sudden. Heir Alphard was requesting an exclusive courtship. The idea interested her. “If I accept this,” she began, “then I wish to hold off conversations of a betrothal until we’ve graduated, and I might want a long engagement.”

“As you wish, Heiress Harriet,” he promised.

With a small smile, Harriet accepted the ribbon. “Tie it for me?” she asked, coyly. The ribbon was held in her left hand.

“Where?” he asked, picking up the ribbon.

“My right wrist.”

They spent most of the afternoon talking, getting to know each other. After finishing the pot of tea, Harriet gave Heir Alphard a tour of the house. She showed him several rooms, sharing her plans for a remodel. While this wasn’t what she pictured for her family, it was the house Sirius left her. It was filled with misery, which she wanted replace with laughter and happiness.

**Author's Note:**

> Title derived from _Sonnet XV_ by William Shakespeare.
> 
> This is basically a re-imagining of _Enchanting_. (Really I thought about rewriting it, again, but I found I had no interest in those characters and that plotline. So I was inspired to come up with something new.)


End file.
